


Mile High Club (Too Close For Comfort Remix)

by helens78



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Airplane Sex, Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Missing Scene, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:59:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a chess game is just a chess game, and sometimes it's foreplay.  Sometimes it's just not enough to relieve the tension, and a little more is needed.  A remix of "<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1692680">Mile High</a>" by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/cygnaut/pseuds/cygnaut">cygnaut</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mile High Club (Too Close For Comfort Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cygnaut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cygnaut/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Mile High](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1692680) by [cygnaut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cygnaut/pseuds/cygnaut). 



One move at a time, Charles can feel himself pulled back under Erik's spell. A knight here. A pawn sacrificed for a moment's advantage. The queen moving back and forth across half the board at once.

He pours himself another three fingers of Scotch and tosses back half of it in one gulp. That draws Erik's attention off the game momentarily, but Charles stares down at the board, forcing himself to ignore Erik's-- whatever it might be. Censure. Curiosity. Intrigue.

"Your strategy hasn't changed much," Charles says, pushing a bishop into Erik's territory. Erik was so focused on his frontal assault that he's neglected to notice the position he's left his other pieces in. Charles has a knight-rook fork on him now, one piece or the other vulnerable to capture.

"Yours has. Or has it?" Erik moves the knight, to no surprise of Charles's. "You're more aggressive than you used to be. On the board, at least."

"I don't need another lecture. The _plane_ doesn't need another lecture," Charles bites out.

"That's not what I meant."

Charles looks up at him, caught off-guard. He can't mean-- but he does. His eyes are steady on Charles's, his lashes dark, his gaze so familiar. Very little about Erik has changed in ten years. A few more wrinkles around his eyes, the creases on his forehead deeper. But his expression is still full of all the quiet desire Charles remembers from him.

Ten years, and he's still waiting for Charles to make the first move. Fuck him. He can keep waiting.

Charles captures Erik's rook, but he doesn't set it aside the way they've both done with the other captured pieces. He rubs his thumb over the metal rim of the piece, back and forth, a rhythm that Erik ought to remember. Sure enough, Erik's eyes are drawn to the piece in Charles's hand. Erik licks his lips, and Charles watches Erik's chest rise and fall with the quickened pace of his breath.

He could have Erik. He could have Erik right here, here on the floor of the plane, on the couch, in any one of these chairs. He could put Erik on his knees, draw desperation out of him, fuck Erik's mouth or his ass and leave him to finish himself off after.

He could do so many things. He _wants_ so many things, and damn Erik for drawing him in again. It's been a long time since Charles felt this kind of want for anyone. It's been... no, he can admit it to himself, at least. It's been ten years, since that last time with Erik, the night before Cuba.

"Charles..."

"It doesn't even matter that I hate you, does it? You don't care about how I _feel_." Charles sets the rook down and reaches across the table to grip Erik's wrist. "Only what I can do for you."

Erik swallows, his eyes locked on their hands. Charles can feel his pulse now, light and fast beneath his fingers. "It's been ten years," Erik murmurs. "Do we really know what we can do for each other now?"

"You think so highly of yourself," Charles says, his nails digging in now. Erik doesn't even flinch. It's never been like him to show pain if he could help it. "After everything you did to me, you think you can still convince me to take you to bed."

"It doesn't have to be a bed." Erik finally looks up and meets Charles's eyes. "Let me."

He starts to slide out of his chair, and for a moment Charles is too transfixed to stop him. Onto the floor, right here, his hand moving to Charles's knee and--

They both stop at a noise from the front of the plane. A long, rumbling snort-- Logan, still asleep in the co-pilot's seat. Charles makes an impatient noise of his own and grabs Erik's shirt, tugging up.

"Not here," he hisses. "In the back."

He half-shoves Erik down the aisle and pushes him into the narrow airplane bathroom, slamming Erik against the wall as they crowd around the confines, pushed up against each other, a lack of space substituting for intimacy. Erik bends his head down, and with the close quarters, there's nowhere for Charles to escape him-- nowhere to escape Erik's mouth, those tilted lips Charles spent the last years dreaming about, the hunger and desperation that Charles can't help but echo. He can deny it out loud all he wants, but his body knows what it needs, and that's the man standing in front of him, reaching down to cup his ass, making the same soft, pleading noises that Charles used to love.

Charles grips Erik's shirt and takes the half-step back that the bathroom allows, pulling Erik with him. "Come on," Charles gasps. "Come on, give over, I _know_ you-- I know how much you want to--"

Another sound, this one all but torn from Erik's lips, and Erik goes to the floor, hands running up Charles's thighs. Charles watches as his belt unbuckles itself-- as _Erik_ unbuckles it, unzips Charles's trousers. Charles shoves his trousers and briefs down to his knees, and it's still too cramped in here for what he really wants, so he mantles up onto the counter, ignoring the way the faucet digs into his back. Erik follows him, licking his lips again and again. Ten years, Erik's lived without this, and the mottled flush on his cheeks shows it.

"Tell me," Charles says, reaching down with both hands, cupping Erik's head between them. "Tell me what you want."

" _Please_ , Charles-- just _let_ me--"

"Say it."

"Let me suck you," Erik says, and Charles draws him in, groans as he watches Erik swallowing his cock down.

It _is_ watching, really-- the feelings aren't as sharp as they were before the accident, Hank's serum can only do so much. But he's watching Erik Lehnsherr on his knees, Erik's mouth moving back and forth on his cock, Erik's lips stretched thin and tight around him. He's watching Erik's body, his shoulders strained from all this tension between them, the motion of his back as he takes Charles's cock in again and again and again.

He grips Erik's hair-- there's enough of it to hold onto, barely-- and takes over the pace. Faster, rougher-- it's not what he liked ten years ago, but with his sensations blunted, it feels the best. And Erik meets him there, going slack in Charles's hold, letting Charles move him wherever he needs to feel Erik's mouth and lips and tongue the most. Charles could almost believe he's using Erik, but when one of Erik's hands comes off Charles's calf and the rhythmic motion of his arm starts up, Charles knows damn well he's not. Erik's getting off on this every bit as much as Charles is.

_That's it. Oh, God, look at you, that's it, look how much you want this, how beautiful you are when you want it._ Charles bites down on his lower lip, grateful for now that the words can't spill out mind-to-mind, glad that he's never developed the habit of speaking his thoughts out loud. He can think whatever he likes, right now; he can think _you're beautiful, Erik, so beautiful, and I've missed this, missed you, whatever I might say_. He can think, _please, Erik, don't leave me again, why did you go, I needed you, you needed me, we belong to each other_.

But all he lets himself say aloud is, "Finish yourself off-- I'm coming--"

And he does, curled forward above Erik, gasping as quietly as he can. Erik follows moments later, his own sounds blunted by Charles's cock, the vibration shivering through Charles's body.

It's a few moments before either of them thinks to move. Charles comes back to himself with the realization that he's been petting Erik's hair, his other hand gentle on Erik's shoulder. He pulls back and grits his teeth, shouldering Erik aside so he can do what little cleanup he must-- Erik took care of most of it, and the bastard is still licking his lips as though he's savoring the taste.

"Good as you remembered?" Charles asks. It doesn't come out as angrily as he'd thought it, and for some reason that makes Erik look away, busying himself with his scarf and the wrinkles Charles left in his shirt.

Erik might have said, _Almost._ He might have said that he missed Charles's mind in his. He doesn't miss it any more than Charles does; Charles doesn't need Erik to say it out loud in order to believe that. Even if he had his gift, he wouldn't touch Erik's mind again. Never again.

He leaves Erik to finish tidying himself up. On his way back to the chess game, he finds that Logan's moved back into the passenger section of the plane. If Logan has any response to what's just happened, he doesn't say it aloud. Maybe he isn't surprised. Maybe in the future, things are different between Charles and Erik-- different enough that a moment's lapse like this one is perfectly normal.

Charles knows better than to believe that future is going to come to pass again. He glances up as Erik takes the seat across from him, and Erik gestures down at the board. "Shall we start again?"

It's a moment before Charles can respond to that. So many things struggle to be said; so much has changed. And so little, he thinks, shifting in his seat.

"It's your move," Charles answers.

"So it is," Erik says, and he leans forward slightly, casting his eyes to the chessboard.


End file.
